Milkshake, yummy!

AU—OOC (is it, really? Hmm.)

TW: Strong Language — Emotional Distress

~ Trying To Be Sane ~

If you see the boy I used to be, could you tell him that I'd like to find him?

And if you see the shell that's left of me, could you spare him a little kindness?

- Anson Seabra

Danny stood in the queue, waiting for his order, shifting nervously, his gaze darting around as he tried to ignore the suffocating weight of everyone's stares. It felt as though the air around him was closing in, pressing tighter with each passing second. But hey, he's out. Atleast he's free.

Still, the idea of socializing flickered through his mind. Maybe he needed to… try? The thought made him laugh softly to himself, a humorless chuckle that escaped before he could stop it. He glanced down at the floor, shaking his head.

"What's up with you?" Valerie's voice broke the moment, casual but laced with curiosity.

Danny's gaze snapped up, his green eyes meeting hers. "Nothing," he said quickly, his tone light but awkward. "It's just—" He paused. What was he about to say? Admit that it was nice seeing a familiar face? That felt too personal. Too vulnerable. So that felt as a big no-go. "I'm glad I ordered some food," he said instead, a weak replacement.

Valerie raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. She didn't say anything, turning her back to him as she stepped away.

Moments later, she returned and placed the to-go bag on the counter with a practiced ease. "Here's your order," she said, her brows furrowed as she slid the strawberry milkshake toward him with a soft scrape.

Danny reached for the bag, but Valerie's next words caught him off guard.

"You took the courage to come over here. That's a good way to start somewhere—to deal with your, y'know… anxiety." Her voice was neutral, almost casual.

But it was enough to make Danny pause. He blinked, unsure how to respond.

"Yeah, I guess. Thanks, Val," he said finally, his voice quieter this time. He grabbed the bag and milkshake off the countertop, offering her a faint smile.

She didn't return a smile. Instead, she looked at him briefly and said, "Take good care of yourself, would'ya?"

Then, as if the moment hadn't happened, she glanced away, her attention already shifting to the next customer. "Next in line!" she called sharply, her voice cutting through the air, leaving Danny standing there for just a second longer before he turned to leave.

Danny hesitated for a moment, then nodded silently and turned to head toward the door.

He had a longing for that strawberry milkshake, even more than the burger and fries tucked in the bag. It wasn't just about the taste. It was about the feeling it brought with it—the fleeting sense of normalcy he so desperately craved.

Danny lifted his arm, pressing his lips around the straw and drew the cold fluid into his mouth.

The taste was a perfect harmony of ripe, juicy strawberries and creamy sweetness, with just a hint of tang that brightened the flavor. Each mouthful was smooth and indulgent, the richness of the cream blending seamlessly with the natural fruity sweetness. It was perfectly balanced—neither overly sugary nor too tart—leaving a lingering, refreshing taste of strawberries on his tongue.

But before he could reach the door, ready to step outside, a voice cut through the muffled buzz of the crowd, sharp and unmistakable.

"Danny!"

He froze mid-step, his breath hitching as his name echoed in his ears. The crowded voices around him seemed to blur into a dull hum, and his glowing green eyes darted around, searching for the source. Who was it?

But then, he stumbled against a figure, inattentive as he tried to locate the voice. The impact jolted him, and he felt his strawberry milkshake tip slightly, spilling some of the cold, sticky fluid onto the man's clothes—and his own.

Danny clenched his teeth together, pinching his eyes shut for a moment, willing his nerves to settle. He quickly stepped back, opening his eyes to assess the situation.

"Hey! Watch it, would you?!" they both snapped at the same time, voices overlapping in perfect unison.

Danny blinked, startled, as the man turned to face him. The tension in the air crackled as they both stood there, caught in the awkward aftermath of their jinxed outburst.

"Phantom?!" the blond man—bodybuilder look-alike—exclaimed, his voice thick with disbelief. His sharp blue eyes locked onto Danny's glowing green ones, and one eyebrow arched high in recognition.

"It's really just—Danny," Danny said flatly, his tone laced with annoyance. He felt his stomach drop, a sour knot twisting in his gut. "But sure, whatever you say, Dash."

Danny widened his arms, shaking his milkshake slightly for emphasis as his expression shifted into something more suspicious. His eyes narrowed, cutting into the blond man in front of him.

"Thanks for running into me and spilling my milkshake," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, the corners of his mouth twitching in an inverted smile. He gave the cup another deliberate shake, letting the sticky liquid inside slosh noisily.

Danny wasn't pleased. In fact, he suddenly felt a wave of disappointment wash over him. Of all people, why did it have to be Dash Baxter?

"I—I am sorry. I'll buy you a new one," Dash stammered, his voice unusually soft, as if he were startled—or maybe even scared.

Danny blinked, taken aback by the reaction. "No need, it's fine. Don't worry about it," he said quickly, his tone softening as he shifted his expression back to something more neutral. "I was just mocking you."

But a thought lingered in his mind as Dash hesitated, his posture still stiff, his eyes flicking nervously away. Was it that? Were people scared of him?

Really?

The realization hit him like a cold wave. He'd always been a target for ridicule or praise, but fear? That was something new, something unsettling.

"Dash, are you not okay or something?" Danny asked, his tone softer now, a tinge of concern creeping in. He tried to lighten the mood with a small joke. "You do look like you've seen a ghost."

But the attempt didn't land. If anything, it made things worse. Danny could see the tension in Dash's jaw, the flicker of unease in his eyes. Great, he thought, a pang of guilt hitting him. Now he felt pity for mocking him in the first place.

Dash didn't answer. He just stared at Danny, his blue eyes locked on him with an unreadable expression. Then, without a word, he stepped away, moving sideways—almost cautiously—before turning and retreating toward the register.

Danny stood there, watching Dash retreat, the moment lingering uncomfortably in the air.

What's his deal? His brow furrowing slightly as he raised one eyebrow. His lips parted, as if to call out or say something, but no words came.

Instead, he just stood there, frozen in the awkward silence, the strange interaction replaying in his mind.

"Danny!"

The voice rang out again, sharper this time, cutting through the lingering awkwardness.

He glanced around quickly, his eyes darting over the crowd until he spotted someone waving an arm straight up in the air. The movement was deliberate, trying to catch his attention.

Danny squinted, tilting his head slightly as he tried to make out who it was. Who…? he thought, the voice tugging at something faintly familiar in the back of his mind.

He hesitated, his feet dragging slightly as he stepped toward the raised arm, the figure coming into view. It didn't take long for the realization to hit him.

Sam and Tucker.

They were sitting at a booth, looking up as if nothing had changed, as if they hadn't drifted apart. Of course, it was them. Who else would call his name like that?

But the sight of them only made his chest tighten. Why would they even call out to him? After everything that had happened—after they had practically ditched him.

Or… did he ditch them?

The question cut deeper than he expected, gnawing at the edges of his mind. What the fuck happened between them anyway? He couldn't even piece it together. He had tried to reach out to them after coming back home, but every attempt had been met with silence. Cold, dark silence. Or at least, that's how it felt.

The gnawing feeling in his core grew worse as he stopped a few feet away, conflicted. He wanted to turn around, to leave, to disappear into invisibility and avoid this confrontation altogether. It was too much. The realization hit him hard—he shouldn't have come here.

The Nasty Burger, the people, the memories—it was all too overwhelming.

But then, another thought surfaced, cutting through his anxiety like a blade. Maybe now is the time.

The time to face them. To get answers to the questions that had been weighing him down for months. The questions that lingered, unanswered, in the dark corners of his mind.

Danny took a slow breath, steadying himself, and took another step forward, his nerves frayed but his resolve just strong enough to push him onward.

If they really had missed them, why didn't they running for him? No of course, they don't missed him. If they'd care, they would've helped by an escape attempt, right?

But the friendship was before the capturing already shattered. He only didn't know why.

Danny stopped just a few inches away from their booth, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on his shoulders.

"Hi," he said, his voice low, carrying a heaviness he couldn't hide. Just by greeting them, he felt a strange sting deep down in his purring core, like a burden he couldn't shake.

He tried to smile—a weak, fleeting attempt to lighten the tension—but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. It felt awkward, forced, and disappointing, as if it wasn't worth the effort.

For a moment, neither Sam nor Tucker spoke. They just stared at him, their faces etched with pity, their eyes flickering with something he couldn't quite place.

The silence between them hung thick, suffocating. Danny shifted uncomfortably, with his strawberry milkshake clasped in his right hand, he took a sip to distract him from the moment. His throat felt tight as he swallowed, biting the straw absentmindedly.

The sting in his core grew sharper as he waited for one of them to say something. Anything. To break that awful silence that felt like an eternity.

Sam leaned forward, her arms crossed tightly on the table, her expression unreadable except for the faint tension in her jaw. Tucker, on the other hand, sat more casually, his back pressed against the seat, one arm draped over the booth as if he were trying to appear relaxed.

Danny stood there, the straw still pressed between his teeth as he took another slow sip. The cold, sweet liquid sliding down his throat. He felt the weight of their gazes and the awkwardness that filled the space between them. Why was no one saying anything?

He shifted on his feet, glancing between the two of them. The sting in his core felt like a dull ache now, twisting deeper with every second that passed. Why does this feel so hard? His nerves fraying under the quiet scrutiny.

But then, Sam broke the silence. "Hey, Danny," she began, her voice quieter than he remembered. "Long time no see, huh?" She ended with a narrow, hesitant smile, the kind that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Letting the straw slip from between his teeth, Danny swallowed the last sip, the sweetness lingering on his tongue while he lowered his milkshake. "Yeah, well," he began and swallowed again, "you can kind of say that," he replied, his tone casual, though the awkwardness clung to him.

"You uh—wanna join us, dude?" Tucker asked, breaking the tension further. He shuffled to the side in the booth, gesturing for Danny to sit down.

Danny hesitated for a moment, the sting in his core sharper now, but he forced himself to nod.

"Sure. You guys called me over here, right?" Danny said, his voice light, though his eyes carried the familiar tiredness his former friends always seemed to notice.

He slid into the seat next to Tucker, the paper crinkle of his to-go bag sounding softly as he placed it down on the table. His milkshake followed, the condensation slick against his fingers.

Danny hesitated for a moment, glancing at the foam cup in his hand. If he wanted, he could have kept it cold effortlessly—it was one of the few perks of his powers. But instead, he simply placed it on the table with an unusual amount of care, as if grounding himself in the mundane act of setting it down. The cold seeped into his palm briefly before he let go, his fingers lingering on the edge of the cup for just a second longer than actually needed.

Tucker nudged him gently with his elbow, a grin tugging at his lips. "Took you long enough. We thought you ditched us for some ghostly adventure."

Danny smirked faintly, a flicker of sarcasm shining through as he shook his head and glanced down at his milkshake. "Yeah, right," he said, his tone light. "Like I'd choose a ghost fight over your sparkling company."

He twirled the straw absentmindedly with his fingers, the corners of his lips tugging into a small grin. The words were meant to break the tension, to lighten the mood, even if only slightly. It was a weak attempt, but it was something—a small crack in the heaviness.

"Dude, you would totally do that," Tucker shot back, not missing a beat, his tone dripping with a playful sarcasm. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a smirk spreading across his face.

It was classic Tucker—quick, casual, and perfectly timed to jab at Danny's attempted humor. "I mean, come on. You'd ditch us the second your ghost sense goes off, or spotting a glowing green anything."

Okay, that was… kind of true, Danny thought, even if he didn't want to admit it. His smirk faltered slightly as the weight of Tucker's words sank in.

Did he abandon his friends that hard? That much?

The thought stung more than he expected, twisting uncomfortably in his chest. Sure, he'd been distant back in the days—distracted by fights, by the chaos that came with being Phantom. But had he really pushed them away to the point where it was just a joke now?

He shifted in his seat, glancing at his milkshake as if it might hold the answer. Maybe Tucker wasn't entirely wrong, he admitted silently, the guilt was suddenly tugging at the edges of his mind.

Sam leaned forward slightly, resting her forearms on the table as her gaze softened, her violet eyes steady on Danny. "So, Danny," she began, her voice low but carrying a genuine warmth, "how've you been?"

Her tone wasn't casual—it wasn't just polite conversation. It felt like she really wanted to know, like she was searching for something in his answer. Something real.

Danny hesitated for a second, then gave a small shrug, a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Doing fine," he muttered, but the way Sam tilted her head, concern lingering in her expression, made the space between them feel a little less heavy.

Sam gave him that look—the one where her brow arched just enough to tell him she wasn't buying it. "Come on, Danny. Seriously. How've you been?" she asked, her voice softer this time as she shifted closer in her seat.

Danny hesitated, his fingers fidgeting around the foam cup of his milkshake. He let out a short laugh, though it didn't hold much humor. "Honest? The truth?" He paused, glancing between his two friends before dropping his gaze. "It's… harsh. Feels like a weight on my shoulders—or like… I don't know, some kind of venom running through my veins."

The words hung in the air for a beat, heavier than the light banter they usually shared.

Tucker leaned back again, his grin faltering only slightly as he tried to break the tension. "Dude, since when did you become the poetic type?" he teased, nudging Danny's arm lightly. But then he hesitated, his voice lowering as he added, "And… why are you—" He paused, searching for the right words. "You know, in Phantom form?"

Sam crossed her arms, leaning in closer. "Yeah, that's a good question, Tuck. And what's with the black clothes, huh? Is this your new look now?" she asked, her tone attempting to stay light but carrying an edge of concern.

Danny stiffened. Should he say something? His friends knew, right? Everyone knew by now—Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom were one and the same. But then again… did they? Uncertainty twisted in his chest, leaving him momentarily speechless.

He forced a chuckle, but it came out strained. "Well… since I got back… I've been in a pretty bad condition. You guys wouldn't believe what I've been through," he admitted, his voice quieter now as his gaze fell to the table. His hand absently raked through his hair, and he sighed, long and heavy.

When he glanced up again, their faces were soft with empathy, but there was something else—something unspoken, something that made his stomach churn. Their gazes felt heavier now, scrutinizing in a way that made his skin crawl.

"My suit," Danny continued, forcing himself to keep going despite the tightness in his throat, "it's gone. And… I haven't been able to turn back to my human self. It's—dangerous, or at least, it feels like it."

Sam's brow furrowed deeply. "What do you mean, dangerous?" she pressed. "Danny, how long has it been since you've seen your human self?"

Danny hesitated, the question hanging over him like a trap. His eyes flicked between Sam and Tucker, fear tightening in his chest. What would they think if he told them? What if they believed Phantom had taken over completely? What if… they didn't trust him anymore? No. That couldn't be true. They were his best friends back then—they wouldn't think that. Would they? They know the truth, they always knew. Even when their friendship was broken, in some way.

Instead of answering, he instinctively sidestepped the question. "So," Danny said abruptly, his voice forced and too loud, "how are you guys?" He inhaled sharply, exhaling a shaky sigh as if shaking off the weight of the moment. Maybe it was dumb to dodge it, but he didn't care. Not right now.

Sam and Tucker exchanged a look, concern etched across both their faces, but neither pushed further—yet.

"Doing really good, actually," Sam said, a hint of pride in her voice. She leaned back slightly, crossing her arms with a small, satisfied smile. "Last year of school, you know? College prep, applications, and all that. It's a lot, but… it feels like we're actually getting somewhere."

"Yeah, no arguments there," Tucker chimed in, grinning as he adjusted his hat. "I've got my eye on this tech program—tons of coding, building, you know. They're lucky to have me, obviously."

Sam rolled her eyes but smirked. "Lucky? Or doomed?"

"Hey, don't knock it," Tucker shot back playfully. "You can't say you wouldn't miss my genius if I wasn't around."

The lighthearted exchange brought a small, genuine smile to Danny's face, even if he didn't say anything. For a brief moment, the weight he'd been carrying didn't feel quite so crushing, like the air around him was a little easier to breathe.

He reached for his milkshake, wrapping his fingers around the cool cup as the condensation dampened his hand. Bringing the straw to his lips, he pressed it gently between them and took another sip. The sweet flavor spread across his tongue, a small, comforting distraction in the midst of everything. For a fleeting second, it almost felt normal, as if nothing ever happened.

But then...

"Danny," Sam started, "don't ignore my—our question."

Why should he tell them? Just because they'd been his friends back then, for the half of his life time, didn't mean he owed them everything now. Right? But then again… maybe he should. Maybe he needed to vent, needed to let it out. After all, they'd been best friends since kindergarten. They used to know everything about each other.

But the last year had changed things. It felt heavy, like a wall had grown between them. The bond they once shared—it felt distant now, like a memory slipping through his fingers. The awkwardness gnawed at him, sharp and unforgiving, leaving a hollow ache in its place.

"Sam," Danny began, his voice softer than usual, almost hesitant as he placed the cup carefully back on the table. His fingers lingered on the edge of the cup for a moment before he pulled his hand back, gesturing vaguely in the air, as if trying to shape the words he couldn't quite find.

"What happened to… you know, us?" he finally asked, his gaze flickering toward her, unsure and searching. His shoulders tensed slightly, as though bracing for an answer he wasn't sure he wanted to hear.

Sam blinked, her brows knitting together as her expression turned from surprise to quiet sorrow. Before she could respond, Tucker cut in.

"Wait," Tucker said, leaning forward slightly. "You—don't know?" His voice carried a note of disbelief. "Danny, what's the last thing you remember? I mean, from last year."

Danny froze. What's the last thing he remembers? He should know. He should. But the memories were blurry, like trying to see through frosted glass. Why was it so vague?

The tremor in his chest grew stronger, his core purring harder against his ribcage. The familiar icy sensation spread across his lungs, tightening like a vice until it was almost suffocating. His breath hitched. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to take a deep, shuddering breath. When he opened them again, the faint frostiness of his exhale lingered in the air.

Ghost sense.

But Danny ignored it. This was more important now, getting some answers.

"I… I really don't know," Danny admitted finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "The next thing I knew, I was—there, again. But somewhere else. And… it still confuses me. It doesn't make sense."

His words hung in the air, heavy and uncertain. Sam and Tucker exchanged a glance, their worry written plainly on their faces.

"You—really don't know?" Sam asked, her voice laced with confusion, her brow furrowing as she leaned forward slightly.

Danny shook his head, avoiding her gaze as he spoke. "I really don't know. I don't know what happened to us—our friendship. Or… how I got captured. Again. In their hands. The Guys in White…" His voice trailed off as his gaze fell to the table, haunted images flashing through his mind like broken fragments of a nightmare.

Sam's expression softened immediately, guilt flickering across her face. "Oh, Danny," she murmured. "We should've been there for you. And we weren't."

But that wasn't the only piece of the puzzle missing. The memory of their friendship—what had happened before his capture? Why did it feel like a distant, unreachable?

"Sam," Tucker cut in gently, his tone low but firm. "He pushed us away. Remember?"

Danny's head snapped up, his eyes wide. "Wait, what?" The words hit him like a jolt, the shock rippling through his chest. He stared at Tucker, his heart pounding. "I pushed... you guys away?"

Tucker nodded hesitantly, his gaze darting to Sam as if seeking confirmation.

Danny let out an awkward chuckle, though the sound felt hollow, almost forced. "Why the fuck would I do that?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. His hands slid beneath the table, resting on his lap.

The laugh faded quickly, dissolving into a silence that felt heavier by the second. The pieces didn't fit. Nothing about this—about them, about everything—made sense. The more he thought about it, the more the edges of his thoughts blurred, leaving him grasping at fragments that refused to come together.

Sam hesitated, her hand resting on the edge of the table as she studied Danny's face. "We didn't understand it either. You just… stopped talking to us. Stopped letting us help." Her voice wavered slightly, the raw emotion behind her words cutting through Danny like ice. "We thought you needed some space, but then you were just… gone."

Danny's chest tightened, his core trembling faintly as the icy sensation returned.

Ghost sense, again? Or was it something else?

But why couldn't he remember? What had he done? And why?

"Really? I don't remember any of that," Danny said quietly, his voice cracking slightly. His gaze darted between Sam and Tucker, panic rising like a tide. "I wouldn't—I mean, I couldn't have done that. Right?"

"You did," Sam said, leaning slightly closer, her tone edged with frustration. "You were closing up yourself, pushing us away. Even I don't know why. You never told us."

Danny's jaw tightened as her words sank in. "That—sucks, because I don't remember that either," he admitted, his voice low and strained. Beneath the table, he clenched his fists tightly, his nails digging into his palms. Is that even true? A flash of anger directed at himself.

But then, a strange feeling began to creep in. A weight, heavy and unyielding, pressing down on his thoughts. Why does it feel like there's something hiding underneath that rock? Something they don't want to dig up?

The silence between them grew thick, stretching for what felt like an entire 15 seconds rule.

Sam broke it just in time. "And for the capturing part… I think I know what happened," she said cautiously, her words deliberate. "I remember seeing the breaking news on TV. They said—and showed—that Phantom, you, was losing it. Freaking out or something."

Danny blinked, her words hitting him like a cold slap.

"Man, that's right!" Tucker chimed in, snapping his fingers as if the memory had just clicked. "I remember now. You were using your ghostly wail—on your own house, dude."

Danny froze. Wait. What?

His mind raced, trying to piece together something that wasn't there. Nobody told him. Not even Jazz. Did she know? Probably she'd know.

"What the fuck?" he muttered under his breath, his fists tightening further. His head buzzed with confusion, anger, and a sick sense of betrayal. Why didn't anyone tell him? Why the hell would he do that?

Longer chapter again, sorry! So I'll end it here again. Honestly... I don't know why, but I had troubles writing this chapter.

Sometimes the only thing you'll need is a break from writing, getting some fresh air, wait—until it's a good time again to write words down.

A reminder: it's okay to have writers block. It sucks, but it's okay.

What's up with Danny? What the fuck is happening? Not that it is bad though. Only if it's for a little moment. He didn't even touched his burger or fries... it was the cold milkshake that mattered the most.

I wanted to write a warm and lighthearted scene between Danny, Sam and Tucker. But apparently I failed, because of my own depressing mind. Or maybe it is because I don't really FEEL the chemicals spark between them at this very moment, I don't know.

I'm sorry if there would be any mistakes.